


time time time

by amp_rs_nd



Series: Cardinal Fury (OC story) [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Dissociation, Experimental, Gen, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:20:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28973487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amp_rs_nd/pseuds/amp_rs_nd
Summary: The first thing you notice upon waking up is that no one will look you in the eyes.
Series: Cardinal Fury (OC story) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2125203
Kudos: 2





	time time time

**Author's Note:**

> I have no clue what this is LOL I guess this is an attempt to channel the experiences of one of my characters after a major turning point in his life. If you're interested in the character, you can find his profile here: https://toyhou.se/3540162.lenny-solano-
> 
> CW: POV experiences dissociation (and it's written in second person, so it uses "you", so be wary!), vague descriptions of a rehabilitation center

The first thing you notice upon waking up is that no one will look you in the eyes.

The nurse keeps her eyes trained on the polished linoleum floor beneath you both as she checks your vitals once and then again and then again again again. You are keenly aware of a friend behind the curtain to your right, and though he shares open thoughts with you upon its unveiling, it’s not quite the same. His face is hard around the edges, as if he knows something crucial that you don’t. 

You don’t doubt that’s the case. Everything feels just a little fuzzy and all your feelings too blurred together. What is happy from sad from tired at all to a man who has kept those locked behind behind for months ages at a time for so long behind shut eyes?

Oh! That’s another thing. He’s gone now. Not just gone from you, but gone forever. You can feel it in your bones and it feels so right no matter how much the feeling sickens you. He was a part of you, no? So maybe you shouldn’t be so relieved.

You will not know relief until you see your best friend again.

* * *

He will not see you. He is gone, as they say, but to where is something neither they nor yourself can understand.

You stand in your comfortable new space for time time months ages at a time or so it seems to a man who has kept those locked behind—

The walls are peony yellow. You faintly recall that is your favorite. It makes you think of picket fences and of dirt between your teeth, like that time when time time time.

You cannot focus so you lay in bed with head facing down. Thrice a day you eat and twice a day you drink even though it should be five, as you recall. Your bed is so soft and warm and it hurts it hurts in such a disgusting little wrong feeling crawling feeling way.

Saturdays are for visits. You get a few. That friend from the hospital comes by most. Benjamin, right? He speaks of loss and of fear and of needing a friend. Your mouth forms comforting words but he looks at you as strangely as you feel. You think things are wrong although they should be right. This is all so wrong. You’re in a place that is objectively right. So why are things so wrong?

On a Tuesday you wake up and things feel a little clearer. You think you hear voices speaking to you, although they don’t form actual words and the nurse has a pitying look when you ask about them. The worse the looks get the more you learn to stop talking. It’s for the best. The less you talk the more the voices do, and you finally think you get it now.

They love you! They whisper sweet things to you at night, and it helps you fall asleep. Maybe that should feel wrong. Maybe that should be looked into. But it feels too right to complain about. Day by day you crawl back towards full consciousness and it gets a little righter and a little righter every step of and step of the way.

On a Friday three people come to see you. You know them! Names, names, names, it’s all unimportant. Especially since they’ve come to take you home.

* * *

Ivan drives. Ivan doesn’t have a license. Elo takes half the wheel even though they can’t drive at all. All Ilo can do it watch, as eyes do. They are not watching you, although their behavior says they want to.

You say as much aloud to all three of them. Ivan makes moves to turn his head but soon thinks better of it and tenses. Only five more minutes to home.

“Do you know the power of Divine Eyes? Did M***** ever tell you?” Ilo asks.

You shake your head no.

“There is so much power in a gaze,” they continue. “There is so much you can say; so much you can do. Emotions, thoughts, intentions. A knife to the heart is much more literal than anything else could be. But looks can and will kill.”

You ask why they would say that.

“Do you not remember?”

You panic. Ilo still will not look at you. Ivan stares ahead and Elo grips the wheel.

“It was Lee. You know him. You like him. It wasn’t your fault. And he’s okay now. We promise.”

It doesn’t do much to comfort you. You cross your arms, shrink as you’ve done many times now, and wait.

* * *

When you get home, Ilo finally does make the mistake of looking you in the eyes!

It’s a beautiful, overwhelming thing. You think it’s almost too much. It is. You pass out on the doorstep.

* * *

“It wasn’t all that bad.”

“How could you say that?” Two voices, simultaneous over Ilo’s singular. Are you awake yet? Or are you feeling this?

“You don’t understand.” They are anger. “I am an Eye.” And they are an Eye. “I know everything there is to know about seeing and looking! And that is unlike anything I’ve seen before.”

Ivan: “It could have destroyed you.”

Ilo: “No, I don’t think it could have.”

Elo: “You don’t know that.”

Ilo: “Maybe not. But it’s Lenny, isn’t it? He wouldn’t do that.”

Ivan: “Maybe not on purpose…”

Elo: “Do we really know for sure that M***** is well and truly g—”

Door creaks open.

“Oh! Hello!” Three voice, simultaneous. Three voices, three different tones.

“Feeling well?” Ivan and Elo.

“Well? No,” you say and the coarseness of the sound surprises you. How long has it been? Time time time?

“Better.” Ilo. It’s a question.

“Maybe. Hard to tell. You?”

“Very well, actually. You know,” their voice picks up with excitement, “I think you’ve changed.”

You can’t help but bark out a hysterical laugh. The others don’t find it very funny. Ivan flinches. “Oh, right. Hadn’t noticed.”

“Is it good?”

Now that’s a question if you’ve ever heard one. Is it good?

“Am I?”

Yes yes yes.

“Then yes.”

Ilo looks you in the eyes again and it’s much much better this time time time. You see pinks and oranges and a bit of mint at the edges. It means so little yet so much to your new now. Those voices are back and though they’re mercifully quieter this time their song means ever so much more.

Time time time.

“We will figure this out with time.”

* * *

Time time three months time. What a word is time.

Three months to the day time. Two months to the day time since you came time and stood upon your feet again time. You need time time time to search for your beloved. You have is what is time time to the time. You will find him all in time.


End file.
